Bond of Brothers
by Rosie26
Summary: A story of fraternal love which endures through countless lifetimes.


_**Usual disclaimers apply - no profit, and I'm borrowing the characters for fun.**_

**Well too many people asked me to do a sequel to Regression, so I thought about it and although I never thought I'd do one modern day story, let alone two, here it is,and it's probably best to read that one first if you haven't already.**

**BOND OF BROTHERS**

He was just walking down the street with friends after a night out. They'd left the bar where they were celebrating Vince's last few days as a single man, but they weren't drunk, not really. Just happy. Alex could always handle his drink, and never over-indulged because he didn't like not being in control. The others were going on to a nightclub, but it wasn't his scene. He didn't know why - he was nearly thirty but he still liked current music, and although he wasn't a great dancer, he hadn't tired of looking at pretty girls. Looking that is, not touching, as he was spoken for and perfectly happy with Abbie, his girlfriend of three months. Perfectly happy with Abbie, but not perfectly happy within himself. He'd often suffered depression without really knowing why, and lately it had been even worse. It wasn't always there, and didn't last that long, but occasionally he became low in mood with the feeling that something in his life was missing. It was that thought which made him depressed, because he missed nothing! He had good parents, an older brother and a younger sister who were friends as well as siblings, a job he enjoyed, and now Abbie. To feel that there was something lacking in his life made no sense, and it bothered him.

Still, tonight wasn't one of those times, and seeing how happy Vince was about his forthcoming marriage started him thinking about taking the plunge himself...it was about time he settled down, and Abbie would be a great wife and mother. He waved to the others and crossed the road to walk to the nearest taxi rank - he was mentally rehearsing his proposal when the car came from out of nowhere. There wasn't even time for pain as Alex Stewart's head made contact with the road and every living thought vanished.

Flynn Kearney awoke in panic, and sat up quickly, bathed in sweat, his heart beating rapidly. He hadn't slept well as it was, following a night out in Dublin with his brother who had just returned from three months in Australia. He looked around the room, fearful of seeing whatever had caused him to wake, as he tried to remember what he'd been dreaming. "Boromir," he whispered to himself.

It was two years since his regression had taken him back to his life as Faramir of Gondor in a long distant age, and which had culminated in an emotional reunion with his father from that age. Since that time, he had, with the help of his hypno-therapist, been trying to find a way to locate Faramir's much loved elder brother. Flynn had been determined he would never give up - during one regression session he had been overwhelmed by the feeling that Boromir was in the room, and since that time had become convinced that "his brother" was also looking for him. Brendan had spread the word via other hyno-therapists, and Flynn had allowed his story to be told in the media, setting himself up for accusations from some quarters, of both madness and deceit. Determined to be taken seriously, he refused payment for all interviews and TV appearances, but despite hope being raised every time someone claimed to be Boromir, it never amounted to anything, the claims a combination of either delusion or fraud.

The digital clock on his bedside radio showed that it was 6.15 am, and unable to get back to sleep, he dragged himself out of bed and walked to the window, looking out across the endless green of the Irish countryside. The sky was mottled with pink and a mixture of pastel and navy blue, remnants of night still resisting the arrival of the dawn. He loved his home, and since his meeting with "Denethor", his relationship with his present-day father, who had been surprisingly supportive, had improved beyond measure. He was close to Liam, his brother, and no longer worried excessively over his safety, so life was good, and in recent weeks he'd wondered whether it was time to close the chapter on Faramir. Or at least, this particular chapter, because he still wrote to, and received letters from, Martin Coulson, his reincarnated father, but finding "Boromir" was probably just a pipe-dream anyway.....it would be hard enough to find a present day incarnation if all you had to go on was "somewhere in the world". Finding a departed soul in an unknown body would be impossible unless something happened to provide a clue. He couldn't remember his dream, no matter how hard he tried, but it meant something - was it the clue he needed? Whatever its meaning, his gut instinct told him that somewhere, Boromir was in trouble, and he knew then that he could never give up his search.

Three weeks later, an excited nurse paged Alex Stewart's doctor to report that his patient appeared to be emerging from his coma.

"What happened?" he asked as he looked at the young man, still pale and unconscious in the hospital bed.

"He called out," said the nurse, "Although I don't know what he meant. He said something that sounded like....... for a mere.....I'm not sure......"

"Odd thing to say," mused the doctor. "Keep an eye on him - call me immediately if there's any change."

As he left the room he turned to look at Alex. "For a mere?" he thought, and he wondered why it struck a chord.

Flynn walked into the New York hospital full of conflicting emotions. He'd had his hopes raised so many times in the past two years, and now he was conditioned to be cynical, and not given to hope. As he emerged from his coma, Alex Stewart had possibly called out for Faramir, but who was to say it came from his soul, and not from some subconscious memory of Flynn's story which he might have heard at some point. It had been nearly a week after Alex regained consciousness, when his doctor had suddenly remembered why "for a mere" had sounded familiar. He wasn't convinced one way or the other, but he'd remembered from a TV interview the impassioned young Irishman with the fascinating story of regression into a long lost time.

"He's still a little vague," said Dr. Andrew Hillman, "and I wouldn't recommend that you approach him with the idea that he is your brother from another life."

Flynn shook his head. "I wouldn't do that," he assured the doctor. "In fact, I don't really know how to approach this at all.......other people who claimed to be Boromir came to me first. And after so many false alarms, I don't really have much hope of this turning out any differently to all the rest."

"Is he able to have visitors?" asked Brendan, who had accompanied Flynn on this journey, as he had on all the others. Whilst it appeared to be a monumental - if not impossible - task, he planned to support the young man for as long as Flynn needed him.

"His family have been able to see him for short periods," replied Andrew. "He was unconscious for nearly a month, and is still recovering. By rights he should be dead."

Suddenly, Flynn was struck by a thought that made him full of both excitement and fear.

"When was the accident?" he asked.

Andrew Hillman took a look at Alex's notes. "18th August", he replied.

Flynn clutched Brendan's arm. "What's the time difference between here and home? Five hours?"

As Brendan nodded, Flynn's stomach lurched, and he felt as though his heart had taken up residence in his mouth. He looked at Andrew Hillman, but he no longer felt the need to ask questions, as his mind went back to his dream, the night after Liam's return from Australia.

"It happened at 1.15 am didn't it.........?"

Andrew looked again at Alex's notes, and slowly nodded his head.

"It's him," said Flynn. "It's really Boromir. I know it."

**TBC.**


End file.
